2. Ben
“FIRE IN THE HOLE!”
I flick the lighter, my whole body shaking with laughter as I hold it to the fuse hanging from the bottom of a bottle rocket that’s stuck in a bucket of sand on the deck. It takes quickly, the fuse sparking, and I jump back, swigging from my beer bottle as I let out a loud laugh.
“WHOO HOO!” my friend Jason shouts, his arms raised above his head, his bourbon sloshing from the red plastic cup and drenching the front of his T-shirt. He barely even notices because he’s as wasted as I am, as wasted as we all are.
We watch as the rocket shoots up into the sky, disappearing into the darkness of the night before it suddenly explodes in a shower of colors that rain down. Even with the music pumping from the stereo speakers on the back deck, you can still hear the loud bang of the explosion.
“Fuck yeah,” Troy, my other friend yells as he holds out what I quickly realize are three bottle rockets that he’s somehow managed to tie together. “Let’s do a triple,” he says, grinning.
I take the fireworks from him, sticking the spikes into the sand as I finish my beer. “Hit me!” I shout, throwing the empty beer bottle onto the back lawn, narrowly missing a group of people drinking by the pool.
“Drink harder, you pussy!” Jason yells, downing the last of his bourbon before he turns to Troy. “Dude, where’s the bourbon?”
Troy stands on the deck, turning in a slow circle as he pats down his pockets like he’s somehow hiding it and expecting to find a bottle of bourbon in his shorts. When he looks up at us, he’s grinning, his eyes glazed over because we’ve pretty much been drinking since lunchtime.
It’s been our standard MO ever since we arrived here two days ago, the three of us spending the summer at my parents’ beach house before we all have to head back to the real world. After years of study, none of us want to think about that right now, which is why the house is full of people we only met a few days ago and we’re all shit-faced drunk, doing stupid shit like lighting off fireworks and jumping into the pool from the second story balcony.
The real world can wait.
Thankfully, the house on one side is empty, and my neighbors on the other side, the Hendersons, left for their European vacation the day before we arrived. Because I’d never be able to get away with this kind of shit with them staying next door like they normally do over the summer. I mean, not only are they really nice people who I would never subject to these kinds of drunken shenanigans, they are also friends with my parents. Which means every single thing that goes down would get reported back to them.
And I definitely can’t have that happening. My dad is already up my ass about the fact I’m spending my summer after graduation hanging out at the beach with my friends instead of prepping for my job in the city. I come here every year, but for some reason now that I’ve graduated, I shouldn’t be here this summer. Slacking with my thumb up my ass, as he puts it. Fuck, even before the semester finished, he was sending me information on clients at the firm, invites to meetings and presentations, and whatever, like he thought I was interested.
Newsflash, I wasn’t, and I’m still not.
I might have gone to college like my parents wanted and expected me to do, even studying architecture like my dad, but that doesn’t mean I want to be like him now that I’ve graduated. Stuck working in a New York City firm, caged in an office and a suit and never actually getting to live life.
No fucking thank you.
So here I am, hanging out at their beach house with my two best friends and a bunch of people, some of whom we barely know, making the most of our summer break.
“Drinks, who’s got drinks?” Troy now shouts when he realizes he doesn’t have a bottle in his shorts. And as if he’s somehow conjured them up, a bunch of girls walk out onto the deck, one of them shaking a bottle of JD in our direction.
“Fuck yes,” I shout, grabbing the bottle from her hand before throwing my arm around her shoulders. She’s a cute little redhead and even though I have no idea who she is, I’m more than happy to change that after a drink or two. I take a long swig straight from the bottle, before holding it out to Jason, half-filling his cup.
“Dude, I need some fucking Coke,” he slurs, glancing around at the half empty soda bottles on the table.
“Dude, I need a fucking cup and some Coke,” I say, taking another swig of JD.
“Dudes!” Troy shouts at both of us. “We need to light this bitch up!”
I laugh, throwing him the lighter which he completely misses. Jason and I piss ourselves laughing as we watch Troy crawl around on the deck looking for it, before he finally stands, arm raised triumphantly.
“Okay, stand back ladies,” he says, trying to be serious, even though he’s got a huge grin on his face. “Oh wait, you can stand with me,” he adds, reaching for a blonde and pulling her into his side.
I step back, taking the redhead who’s currently under my arm with me. She’s somehow managed to find us two plastic cups which she holds out for me to fill. I give us both a generous pour of bourbon, before leaving the bottle on the table and topping us up with what is undoubtedly now warm Coke.
Troy walks over to the three bottle rockets tied together, laughing as he tries to light each of the three fuses at the same time. Just like before, they take quickly and he lets out a squeal that has us laughing even harder, especially when he jumps back, stumbling and falling right on his ass.
The three rockets shoot off the deck, just like before, only with three of them tied together, they seem to be traveling faster and higher as they shoot up into the sky. Then suddenly, the whole thing seems off balance as it swoops back down, zipping past the people by the pool and heading right for where we’re all standing on the back deck.
“Here it comes!” Troy shouts, still on his ass on the deck.
“Is this safe?” the girl beside me asks.
“I don’t know,” I reply, laughing. “No, probably not,” I add, just as the rockets explode in three giant balls of color, right as they crash into a giant potted plant next to the deck, filling the entire area with sparks and explosions.
“Holy shit!” Jason says, holding out his drink as though to toast the pyrotechnics.
It looks amazing this close and this brightly colored, even if it seems to be mostly blue and red. I throw back my bourbon, dropping my arm from the girl’s shoulders as I walk over to where Troy still sits on the deck.
“Dude, let’s do four this time!” I say, reaching down to grab his arm.
“Ben, man, the colors,” Troy says, pointing at the red and blue that’s still filling the night, the flashes reflecting off the surface of the pool.
He’s not the only one who’s looking at them, although everyone else seems to be taking it as a sign that the party is over, as they run down toward the path to the beach.
“What the hell?” I mutter, walking to the edge of the deck.
It’s then that I hear the single whoop of a police siren, before someone yells, “COPS!”
That’s when everyone who’s left, including the girls next to us, bolt for the beach, leaving me, Troy and Jason alone on the deck, the music blaring.
“Did someone say cops?” I ask, pulling my phone from my pocket.
“Yeah, think so,” Troy slurs.
“Fuck,” I groan, pausing the music on my phone. As soon as it cuts off, we all hear the sound of the doorbell echoing through the now silent house.
“Dude, you’re in trouble,” Jason sings.
I laugh, flipping him off as I say, “I’m twenty-fucking-three years old and in my own house. I’m not in fucking trouble.”
Troy lets out a loud burp that has us all laughing, just as the doorbell rings out again. “Maybe we should invite the cops to the party?” he says, falling onto his back. “Ben, go answer the door, invite them in!”
Laughing, I turn and head into the house, walking through the open plan living space that’s littered with empty beer bottles and pizza boxes. I get to the large wooden front door, just as a fist bangs loudly on the other side of it.
“I’m coming!” I shout, as I yank open the door to find two police officers standing on the other side. “Hey, you guys here for the party?” I ask, grinning at them.
Neither of them smile, as one of them glances down at his notebook before asking, “Are you Robert Kincaid?”
“Nope,” I reply, shaking my head. “Ben Kincaid,” I add, jerking a thumb at my chest. The officer glances at his notebook again before looking back at me. “He’s my dad, this is my place,” I say. “It’s cool, he knows I’m here.”
This much is true.
He really does know I’m here because, like I said, he’s been up my ass about coming here ever since I graduated. And sure, I might have promised I was going to spend the summer building my portfolio before coming back to New York to start work, but he doesn’t need to know that was all a big fat lie to get him off my back.
Besides, he’s staying in the city for the summer this year, so I can pretty much do what I want out here. No idea what my sister is doing, probably staying at school if she’s smart.
“Do you have some identification?” the cop now asks, and I reach for my wallet, only to realize it’s not in my back pocket, but upstairs in the main bedroom.
“Ah yeah, it’s upstairs,” I say, pointing to the staircase. “You guys wanna come in while I grab it, maybe grab a beer or something?”
I get hit with a look that tells me they won’t be taking me up on the offer of a drink as they step into the house. With a grin, I give them a thumbs up before I run up the stairs, trying to remember where the fuck I would’ve left my wallet.
Last time I used it was when we bought booze this afternoon, but that was hours ago. “Shit, where are you?” I say to myself as I pick up random pieces of clothing. I finally find it on the nightstand, and with a grin, I grab it and head back downstairs.
“Ben Kincaid,” I say, holding my driver’s license out to them.
The cop asking me the questions takes it, his eyes scanning the ID before he looks back up at me. “Were you aware of how much noise you were making tonight?” he now asks.
“Dude,” I say, letting out a laugh. “It’s a party, of course there’s noise!”
“There’s been a noise complaint,” he now says, handing me back my license. “It seems not everyone is in the mood to party.”
With a grin, I hold my arms out wide. “Dunno why. It’s summer and the night is young!”
“Yes, well, we need you to keep the noise down,” he now says. “The music should stay off and I’d like to remind you that while certain fireworks are legal in the state of South Carolina, others are not.”
“Nah, man,” I say, both hands up. “All legal, I promise.” Not sure that’s strictly true considering it was Troy who brought them on this trip.
The cop raises a brow as if to tell me he knows I might be lying. “Might be time to call it a night, don’t you think?”
“Seriously?” I ask, rolling my eyes because it legit can’t be later than eleven. Who the fuck complains about the noise before midnight over the summer?
“Seriously,” he repeats, deadpan.
I shove a hand through my hair as I glance out at my two friends, still sitting on the back deck drinking like they haven’t got a care in the world. “Who made the complaint?” I ask, turning back to the cops.
“We’re not at liberty to say.”
“Oh, come on,” I groan, my head falling back. “It’s summer and there’s no one around. That place is empty,” I say, gesturing in the direction of the Bannister’s house, which is now up for sale courtesy of their messy divorce. “And those guys are overseas,” I add, pointing toward the Henderson’s. “Ah fuck, wait,” I mutter, my hand on my jaw as I try to remember what the note in the mailbox had said. Something about a house sitter using their house for the summer, so not to worry if I see someone I don’t recognize coming and going from their place.
I haven’t even noticed if anyone is there yet.
But is that who called this in? Some old stick in the mud who likes to eat dinner at five and go to bed at eight-thirty. Fuck that.
“Was it from the Hendersons?” I ask, waving my hand again in the direction of their place. “Because I’m entitled to know.” I have no idea if I am entitled to know who called the cops on my party, but it feels like a smart thing to say.
“Keep the noise down, Mr. Kincaid and no more lighting fireworks. The Fourth isn’t for a few more weeks, remember?” the officer who has done all the talking says.
Then before I can ask any more questions, the two of them turn and walk out of the still open front door, leaving me standing here, wondering who the fuck my new neighbor for the summer is.
And whether I maybe need to plan the most epic Fourth of July party ever. Like I’m talking the party of the fucking century, the party to end all parties, the best party I have ever hosted as payback for this bullshit.